[Jay-Z]I know my English ain't as modest as you likeBut come, get some, you little bumsI take the cake from under the baker's thumbsI bake the cake get two of them for oneThen I move the +weight+ like I'm +Oprah's son+Uhhh, I show you how to do this sonYoung don't mess wit chicks in Burberry paddingsFake Manolo boots straight from Steve Madden (un-uh)He padded hisself the rap jfk, you wanna pass for my Jaqueline OnassisThen hop ya ass out that S-classLay back in that maebach, roll the best grass, I ask...Have you in your long-legged lifeEver seen a watch surrounded by this much pink ice? (uhh)Look but don't touch, muthafucker think twiceCause the gat that I clutch got a little red lightNeed a light?...

[Jay-Z]We got brothers full of Arme, mamis in ManoloBags by Chanel, Louis Vuitton logosAll attracted to Hov' because they know doughWhen they see him, whips be EuropeanIf you're a +te-en+ (ten) chances your wit +him+If you're a five you know you ridin' wit th-emSick wit the pen nigga, no position in the world could fix himNo prescription, you could prescribe to subside his afflictionHe's not a sane man, more like reign man twitchin'You can't rain dance on his picnicNo Haitian voodoo, no headless chickens can dead his sickness (whoo)No Ouija board, you can't see me dog, nigga you +Cb4+This ain't +Chris Rock+ bitch, it's the roc bitchAnd I'm the +franchise+ like a Houston RocketNawimean (Yao Ming)...

[Hook:]Still smoking that lalala...Memph Bleek still smoking that lalala....Beanie Sigel, desert eagle to fo' to five....It's the roc baby sing, I lullabyCome on!

[Chorus:]

[Jay-Z]Forget English talk body languageI be all over mamis like body paintersPink diamond necklace, strawberry wristPlease excuse yourself, you're very sickDon't confuse me wit marbury out this bitchRun up on me at the light, you could lose your lifeMuh'fuckas must be smoking they lalala la crack. 45 gun smoke, choke off thatBack to the music, I ain't wit all thatPlus the feds tappin my music I get all thatI'm the public industry number onePublic industry number two is my whole crew are-O-CAnd I ain't concerned wit' who like me, who like youThat's gay, I ain't into likin' dudes no wayBut get a pen, I can tell you pricks my plans for the futureI never make the news again my man'll shoot ya